Indulge In Me
by darkmorsmordreheart
Summary: “It’s not a love potion; it induces boils if it’s swallowed.” “Boils, love, same difference.” To WiseDraco for her birthday.
1. Chapter 1

Indulge In Me

**By darkmorsmordreheart**

*

Slughorn was a bloody moron.

Not only was he fat and smelled constantly of the asininely sweet crystallized pineapple his fat arse insisted on being bribed with, but he talked with his mouth full and allowed the filling to spray from his mouth as if his young students had asked to be showered with diabetes rain. The man – appearing more walrus than man as he molded himself into the giant armchair that fit around him like a mitten would a bludger – slowly raised a hand, red and bloated, to one of his chins to stroke as he considered the proposition and the box of sugary bribes before him.

"I must admit, Mister Malfoy," the man huffed harshly, breathing heavily just from the strain of breathing heavily. "You _do_ have a rather impressive resume. I know firsthand of your knowledge and skills in the art of creating potions. However, I also know your history."

Draco tried _hard_ to keep his face a neutral as possible as he lowered his left arm from his former professor's gaze. "I know, sir, but I am hoping that, with your support and recommendation, I can convince you – as well as others – that I fully realize the repercussions of my actions and have suffered severely for them."

"Yes, yes, news of your mother's passing was in all the papers," the older man replied gruffly with a dismissive wave of his hand as his other reached for candies Draco had suddenly wished he had poisoned. "It has been twelve years and I don't see why now anyone's opinion of you should change."

"That's exactly it, sir, it has been twelve years. Twelve years of my work in St. Mungo's. Twelve years of my research. Twelve years of my inventions. I have dedicated more than a decade of my time to help the world of wizards –"

"A world that you almost helped to destroy," the man interrupted after making a noise that sounded of a cough, a hiccup, and a belch all at once. "There are many that have not forgiven your family."

"I know, but right now … my son and I are the only members of my family." Slughorn's eyes, small, clouded, and watery with age turned downcast, so the Slytherin in Draco decided to ride the guilty emotion for all its worth. "I don't want him to suffer from my sins."

The old man nodded and stared down at the golden cube he held in his palm, dusting his skin with its sugar.

"I'll send a letter to the ministry as soon as possible," he promised.

*

"Harry … please … Oh, God!"

Ron Weasley stood patiently in the hallway, his hands safely in his pockets and preventing him from knocking on the door … or punching it down, whatever.

"Aaaaaaaaaah, yes! … More! More!"

The redhead began to whistle, anything to drown out some of the sound … Either that or a mirror and quick _Avada Kadavra_.

"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh –" Seriously, nothing is that damn good! "– oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-OH-OH-OOOOOOOOOH-OH-AAAAH-YES-YES-YES-YES-yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesye – Harry!"

A final thump and silence.

Thank the Lord.

A few lazy groans and whispers. Clothing rustling, muted curses, and the Chosen one appears; hair mussed more than usual, healthy glow in his cheeks, lazy smile, lazy hooded eyes, lazy I-just-got-fucked gait, and an inside out shirt.

"Mate, at least pull on your robes so that you don't look like a complete idiot," Ron suggested, his face scrunched up in feigned disappointment as he shook his head at the other man. Harry chuckled and swung the robes that had been fisted in his hand over his shoulder and strolled at the hotel room's doorway with all the swagger of a seventies pimp … A really drunk one. Ron pulled one of his friend's arms over his shoulder and helped the other man along. "Don't make me go through this again, Harry."

"Sorry," the brunet grumbled, smiling slightly at the ugly, almost-paisley pattern on the carpeted floor.

"Bye, Harry," a small voice from behind them said and, as Ron swung them back around to face, he had to admit, the guy was really, really pretty. He wiggled fingers tipped with light blue nail paint at the pair and smiled before turning back into the room and giving them a view of a small, firm, naked backside before the door slammed shut.

"Hot, right?"

Ron turned his head to look at the man he was supported and allowed himself the extra effort of shrugging just to make a point. "He was alright, but did you really have to make me wait like that."

"Well, I flooed you forever ago," Harry whined as the pair walked down the narrow hallway, avoiding walls and the things that hung from them. "And you were taking so long and you're all like 'don't apparate' and then he was sitting there being all cute and he _askedforit_, Ron. Such a naughty boy he was …"

"Don't need to hear it. Married-married-married!" the redhead chanted automatically.

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"Why did you wait until, you know, I got here to do that, you bastard?"

"Don't worry, I swallowed it."

"Eww …" Ron replied just as they staggered to the elevator and it opened to reveal a rather peeved brunette. "Hello darling. Got him!"

"What took you so long?" Hermione asked, her amber eyes quickly scanning up and down Harry as if checking for missing limbs. "I've been waiting in the lobby for almost thirty minutes now."

"He decided to revisit the land of ass," Ron explained and Hermione frowned at him. "Well, he did!"

"Goodness, Harry, when are you going to stop doing this?" she asked as she took her friend's free arm.

"When firewhiskey and ass grow wings and fly to me every night," the man chuckled, giving the brunette a sloppy kiss on her forehead, just under her curly bangs. "He was hot … you should have seen him and his dick –"

"Alright, Harry! Married-married-married!" Hermione sang suddenly and Ron began to laugh softly. "What?"

"Nothing … I just love you," the redhead replied.

Hermione smiled and blew him a kiss across Harry. "I love you, too."

"Aww," Harry sighed softly.

"Where do we take him now?" Ron asked his wife and Hermione looked away for a moment as she thought about it.

"Well, I guess we need to get him a potion so he can situate himself," she replied. "Does he have any at home? Uh, his home?"

"I can't feel my big toe!" the brunet giggled.

"Not with the week he's had, no, I don't think so," Ron said, shuffling his shoulder to redistribute Harry's weight back onto him; he was beginning to lean towards Hermione.

"Well, I know we have some at the Ministry. We just can't tell anyone that we brought his drunk self into the Apothecary in this state of being," Hermione stated flatly as she watched her husband bat away her best friend's sloppy kisses.

"Stop it! Let's hurry so this mess can end." The couple looked around the hallway for any watching eyes and the trio suddenly disappeared with a faint _pop_. They reappeared right in front of Hermione's workspace in the Ministry of Magic's Apothecary and sat Harry down on the clear space on the stone table. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and chin on his balled fists, and stared between them lazily. "Draco Malfoy."

"What?" Ron asked.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry repeated, his voice a bit louder as his eyes opened wider and looked poignantly in the space between them. The couple turned and, sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy sitting at another stone table and staring at them with wide silver eyes over a steaming cauldron. "Hello, Draco."

"What is he doing here?" Ron asked his wife and the woman shrugged.

"Well, uh, he just began working here today, but I don't know why he's here after hours," she told her husband, though she looked at the blond with accusing eyes.

Draco's own eyes narrowed as he met each of the trio's glares – accusing, disdainful, and … dopey – and a smirk fell across his lips as he accessed the Chosen One's current state. "Don't worry about what I'm doing here after hours, Weasleys –" God, it felt good to call both of them that; the surname seemed like such a better insult than Mudblood. "But I do suggest that you worry about what you, a Ministry potion's master and two Aurors, are doing here after hours."

"We don't talk, you don't talk," Hermione replied flatly.

"Agreed," the blond said, going back to his potion.

"Ron, go over there and get the appropriate potions," the wife ordered her husband as she stopped Harry from tilting forward and pitching off the table in his alcohol induced lethargy. Malfoy let out a small chuckle and she glared.

Ron nodded and moved to the shelf the woman had pointed to and the amount of various potions that adorned the entire wall had him walking back and simply shaking his head. "No."

"No?" she asked, a frown furrowing her brow. "There's absolutely none?"

"No, I mean, no. I'm not gonna be able to find a hangover potion amongst all these other ones. I'm liable to poison Harry." Malfoy chuckled again and they both glared. "Come with me."

Draco blocked out the boring couple's equally boring squabbling and spared a glance towards the Drunken One and found that the man was not there. He was sitting on the table beside Draco's potion instead.

Draco looked the man up and down, the crumpled robes, the horrid hair, the hooded eyes and swollen pink lips, the scent of something spicy and warm hung about him … firewhiskey. Firewhiskey, wood smoke, and sweat, but not regular sweat … This was the kind of sweat that coated one's body after a vigorous bout of sex. The blond forced his lips to curl in disgust as he stared up into hazy, emerald eyes. "What?"

"I said hello to you, you know," the man informed him, the words almost slurred and almost … seductive coming from Potter's deep and admittedly rich baritone.

"And?" Draco snapped back, turning back to his potion and posing to crush a peppermint leaf over it. He gasped when a large hand grabbed the leaf and another large hand cupped his chin and made him face the man currently chewing on his potion ingredient.

"And it is polite to reply with an acknowledgment or a greeting, even when you think you're too pretty to," Potter said softly, a teasing smile surrounding the green that poked out between his kiss swollen lips.

"Are you hitting on me or just having a go?" Draco asked, his eyes flicking to where the Weasel idiots were still bickering over potions that sat just at the bottom of the shelves, near their feet.

"Well, I'm so fucked up right now and there's a good chance I won't remember this at all tomorrow and there's about two or three of you, right now, but you're all very pretty, so I guess so. Yes … hitting on you."

"I'm married," Draco said shortly, wiggling the fingers of his left hand next to his face so that his ring flashed. The brunet blinked at his hand for a moment as if he had never seen such a thing before and closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.

"No, you're not," Harry said softly. "You think that just because it wasn't in the news, I wouldn't know." Draco shrugged and picked up another leaf to crush, but the peppermint was gone from his fingers quicker than the last time. "I'm not finished hitting on you."

"You're married."

"Now, you know that's just a lie," Harry chuckled, snorting slightly, then smiling goofily at the snort like he was eight years old. "I've been divorced since … my second son was born … Yeah."

"Don't you have a daughter?" Draco asked, positive that there had been numerous articles about the youngest child, a baby, that he never looked at when skimming the papers.

"I said I was divorced, I didn't say I stopped fucking her," Harry said shortly and Draco smiled causing Harry's smile and a slightly wider smile from Draco.

"I think you should stop hitting on me now," the blond said softly.

"Why?" Harry asked, taking another leaf the other handed him.

"Because your minions are going to find the potion you need any second now and you're Harry Potter and I'm Draco Malfoy."

"You're right," Harry replied, tapping the blond on the tip of his short nose with the end of his finger. Draco's nose scrunched up … cutely and Harry smiled. "I am Harry Potter … and you _are_ Draco Malfoy … I would kiss you, but I threw up in my mouth a little bit a little while ago."

"Well, thank goodness for that," Draco said.

"Yeah … I guess," Harry said a moment before silently and suddenly disappearing and reappearing across the room, back on the Weasley's workspace just as the pair hurried back to him with a bottle. He downed it in several gulps and promptly passed out. The Weasel and the Beaver gathered his limp form in their arms and they disappeared in a rather loud _pop_.

Once again alone and grateful for it, Draco picked up another peppermint leaf and bit into it slowly as he crushed a second over the steaming cauldron.

*

"What do you want, Potter?"

The Auror smiled at the haughty tone that tickled a chuckle along the back of his throat and turned around to face the source. The blond was not happy and his ever present sneer, raised eyebrow, and upturned nose, along with the nasty, icy tone to his voice should have warned Harry to stay away, but the Gryffindor in him growled to know more about this newfound curiosity towards Draco Malfoy.

When he had woken up after that fateful Friday night, hangover free and sexual appetite sated, the first thing on his mind had been the blond … and strangely peppermint. He could not quite remember what the two had to do with one another or when he had actually seen Malfoy on the course of that wild night, but half a bottle of firewhiskey and two – or ten – shots of Grey Griffin can make one forget a lot of things. But apparently not Draco Malfoy. Harry looked the man up and down slowly and found several reasons why. The hair, for one thing; soft looking and long enough to _almost_ skim the man's shoulders and held back by two thin braids on either side of his head that met in the back. However, a few of those moonlit blond strands fell away from the others and graced the smooth, pale skin of Malfoy's forehead. Oh, that skin. Pale as milk and probably as soft and creamy, it was perfection with no blemish in sight. It stretched across a face and body so exquisite, so beautifully angled and magnificently masculine.

"Excuse me, Potter? Has your brain finally exploded or …? I recall asking you what you want." And of course, the snappish words leaving that perfect pink mouth almost ruined it all … Almost.

"Why do I need to want something, Malfoy? I'm just standing here," Harry replied with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

The blond frowned at him and pulled the folders and rolls of parchment he carried in his arms closer to his chest. "Well, you're standing in front of the Apothecary which is two floors beneath the Auror's Department and practically on the other side of the Ministry from it, Weasley is not here, it's her day off, and I happen to know that you have the week off as well, so you shouldn't even be here in the first place."

"How do you know I have the week off?" the brunet asked softly, looking over his glasses at the other man with emerald eyes sparkling with interest. Draco blushed.

"Uh ... Weasley never shuts up about it. She says that since Friday you've been running wild all week."

"It's only Tuesday," Harry interjected.

"That's still four nights of which she can complain about. Now get out of my way."

"I'm in your way?"

The blond stared pointedly at the door behind the other man and Harry turned dramatically and gasped in surprise as if he had not known he was blocking the other's path. He quickly stepped out of the way and gave a theatrical bow as he used his hand to guide the other to the door.

"Idiot," the blond hissed as he pushed the door open and walked through it, ever aware of the man that walked in behind him. "What do you want?" he asked again as he walked to his workspace, nodding at another potions worker across the room.

"Are you free tonight?"

Silver eyes shot to the other man, wide, surprised, and suspicious. "Why?"

"I just had the urge to ask you out today, that's all," Harry replied softly as he hopped onto Draco's desk and smiled at the other man enticingly.

"So you just followed this urge?"

"Well … yeah," Harry chuckled. "I've decided that this is the week in which I will indulge in all my urges … Primal and otherwise …"

The blond looked away from the other man with slightly pink cheeks and began to pull various folders of paperwork from the leather satchel that bounced against his hip. "And exactly what has prompted the week of indulgences?"

Harry did not answer right away. Instead, he brushed the hair that fell across Draco's forehead to reveal warm mercury eyes that gazed back at him in surprise and then he answered, "I had a portrait of Sirius Black commissioned a while ago. You know, he's my godfather." Draco nodded as the brunet's fingers followed the curve of one of his thin braids all the way to the back of his head where they threaded there, kneading and massaging the scalp underneath. "He's very talkative, very animated … Ever since I got my divorce, he tells me that I've been moping. You know why my marriage ended, Draco?"

"No," the blond whispered, staring at the other man's face carefully, observing that the beautiful combination of bone structure and golden skin seemed to come closer and closer.

"I have a theory … I've been punishing myself. I've let so many people down in my life, Draco." God, Draco wished the man would stop saying his name. It sounded as if the man's voice was made of chocolate, moonlight, shadows, and, of course, sex. "Or, at least I've felt like it. It hurt so much, Draco." Harry's other hand settled at the base of Draco's throat and his long, sinful fingers trailed up and down the pale column, stroking under his chin as if the blond was a feline. Draco swallowed down the urge to purr. "Draco … It wasn't until the portrait of my godfather yelled at me to live again that I realized that I was wrongly punishing myself … So this week is my compensation."

"Compensation?" Draco whispered back.

"Yes. I owe this week of indulgences to myself … And I wish to indulge in you."

"You make it sound as if I'm made from chocolate."

"Is that what you taste like?"

Draco felt himself redden horribly and he pulled away to face the folders he had placed on his desk. He shook his head and refused to acknowledge the frown he saw on Harry's face from the corner of his eye. "You don't want me."

"I do … I've been acting on impulses for days now, Draco. I recognize what I want. Let me come to your place tonight."

Draco shook his head. "I have a child to look over … I'm in this stupid job just to support him. I cannot afford any distractions."

"I have three children –" the brunet began, but Draco held up a hand to silence him.

"You also have a mother of those children who is not dead. You have friends who can help you with said children. Your children have grandparents they can be around. You can have one night stands, Harry Potter. I, Draco Malfoy, cannot," Draco said tightly, ignoring the lump in his throat along with the burning behind his eyes.

Harry hopped off the desk and, in one swift motion, pinned the blond to it, much to the surprise of the other potions worker in the room who had been watching the two of them stealthily from behind a potions book.

"What are you scared of, Malfoy?"

"Nothing," Draco snarled back, baring his teeth in the most intense sneer he had ever managed. A sneer that melted away when Harry's hot lips covered it.

"Then I'll be over your house at midnight," the brunet informed the dazed man beneath him. "By then, your little tyke should be out cold and we'll have hours together before I leave. Alright?"

"Alright."

"Alright," Harry whispered into another kiss. "Give me your address."

Draco whispered it to the Auror who claimed to have remembered it before the weight above him vanished in a nearly silent _pop_ of Apparition.

*

Draco's flat was small and none too fancy, but Harry did not seem to mind as he stepped into it through the fireplace at fifteen after midnight and swept the blond into his arms, demanding hasty instructions to the master bedroom. Draco gave them to him as he wrapped his legs around the other's waist and kissed the sides of the perfect face of the Chosen One's. When the man dumped him unceremoniously on his rather small bed, he shivered at the look the man gave him.

Draco knew what he looked like; he always knew what he looked like. Before the man arrived and after he had put Scorpius to bed, he had taken great care in grooming himself. First, a languid bath in which he had added a potion comprised of ingredients he thought would appeal greatly to Harry, including cocoa oil and peppermint. He had smoothed his skin, trimmed his hair and left it to fall straight like rain at the sides of his face. His skin was soft, he was sure of it; he was always cursing himself for buying expensive ingredients for potions to keep it that way.

The robes he wore were so thin that they were almost sheer. They were silky, but not the silk he was accustomed to, merely satin that slid across his skin and reminded him how fall his family had fallen.

But as he lay across that bed, under the gaze of those emerald green eyes, he felt as if he was adorned in the garbs of kings. His blush was violent, so he hid it by looking away nonchalantly, as if the other man had no effect on him whatsoever. The brunet chuckled and crawled onto the bed, between long, pale legs that had automatically fallen apart for him, and he kissed the side of Draco's face softly, tenderly, just so that the redness would grow deeper and he could chuckle at it some more.

"Don't tease me, Potter," the blond said as coldly as he possibly could, despite the heat radiating from his trembling frame. "Do what you came here to do so that you can get out."

Harry continued to chuckle as his mouth created a path of gentle pecks down the other's neck, caressing the soft skin with the occasional whisper or groan of admiration. His hands reached into the other's light grey robes and clutched at the white nightshirt the blond wore, hiking it up until the creamy tops of the man's thighs were bared to the moonlit room. An appreciative moan rang through the room as his curious hand delved under the nightshirt and skimmed across a warm, silky torso.

"Good?" he whispered as he slowly lowered them onto the bed.

"Yes," Draco whispered in reply, pulling his arms free of his satin robes and bending his knee so that it further cradled the other man to him. Harry's chuckle rang through the room a moment before it was pressed and silenced against the blond's lips, tangling with the man's tongue and finally being swallowed when one mouth fully covered another. With deeper kissing brought deeper exploration of bodies and Draco found himself fully curling his leg around the other's trim waist while one hand became lost in wicked black locks and the other found shelter under the plain red t-shirt Harry wore and against the hottest skin he had ever had the privilege to touch.

"_Daddy!"_

The blond froze at the forlorn cry coming from the room down the hall and bit his lip in worry of what the brunet would think of him in that moment. He opened his eyes and first looked at the lips that had stopped kissing him and then diverted his gaze from temptation to another gaze. Those eyes smiled down at him knowingly and Harry rolled off of him to lie on his back on the small bed and cross his arms behind his head. Draco smiled and climbed out of the bed, tugging his nightshirt down as he did so and hurried out of the room to his son.

*

Harry listened to all the quiet sounds of the homey flat as he waited for Draco to return; the creaking of the of the building settling, the ticking of a clock he assumed was hidden in the darkness of the bedroom … He smiled at the sound of Draco cooing over his child and the indulgent whines the child made back. He guessed the boy was around the age of his youngest son, Albus Severus, and four years of age meant nightmares and wet beds, rebellion and the need to be coddled. It meant temper-tantrums and the loathed new concept of "time-out". It meant being able to copy Daddy and make fun of him at the same time. It meant being at the receiving end of constant affection, attention, and all things sweet …

Draco walked quietly back into the bedroom to see Harry, shirtless and with his Muggle jeans unfastened, as he stared out the window to a night sky that was blocked by another building and was lost in thought. It was not until he crawled onto the bed and placed his head on a toned, golden stomach that the brunet looked at him.

"What?" Harry asked, a goofy grin on his face to match the blond's own.

Draco shook his head and traced a hand up a ridged plane of golden muscles. "I was just wondering what had you thinking that hard … You surely never had that expression on your face in school."

"Shut up, Malfoy," the brunet laughed before falling silent and moving slightly so that he could thread the fingers of one hand into moonlit strands of hair. "I was thinking about my children."

Draco smiled and nuzzled the other's navel. "Scorpius had a nightmare and I was required to check every nook and cranny of his room for monsters and the like … Did I ruin the mood?"

Harry shook his head and, to prove his point, sat up to flip the blond onto his back and kiss him soundly.

"Is he asleep?" he asked between kisses.

"At least for another four hours," Draco whimpered in reply. Harry grunted his own and sat up once more, staring at the other man with predatory eyes. He yanked the blond's undershirt off, tossing it aside even as his free hand was tugging down the revealed underwear. Draco gasped as his arousal was assaulted be the cold air of the room, then by the exquisite heat of the other's large hand.

Harry's palm was rough against him, but he shuddered in pleasure, tugging at the other's jeans and gasping impatient phrases and curses when they did not slide off right away. But Harry kissed him softly and pulled away for a moment and, when he came back, his skin was pressed against the other's from head to toe with no barriers but their sweat and the trembles that wracked each of their bodies.

"I want you so bad," the emerald eyed man revealed as he feasted with tongue and lips on the crook of Draco's neck, his hands sliding and dipping into places that had the man beneath him begging and writhing, pleading in a sweet voice for some kind of release. Draco spread his legs further and arched his back so that the tip of the brunet's arousal traced down his own and slid further down to where his entrance twitched and waited. Harry hissed and cupped each side of the blond's face gently, his thumbs tracing across sharply slanted cheekbones just underneath fanning silver lashes. He rolled his hips, pressing the hot, wet tip of him against the other's entrance and sending the blond into a fit of inviting gasps. He reached for the jeans that lay discarded at the edge of the bed and fumbled inside the pockets as he refused to move away from the other's addictive heat. Finally, he found his prize – his wand – and arched away from the blond just enough to bring it between them and mutter a spell that covered the necessary areas in warm, slick liquid.

"Feels good," Draco whispered and Harry smiled and kissed the tip of his pointed nose. Small, heated whimpers left the man's sweet lips as fingers pressed into him. "Good, Harry …"

"I'm happy you like it," the brunet chuckled as he worked two of his fingers in at once with no protest from the other. "It feels like you like it; you're taking me in so well."

The blond moaned his agreement and pumped his hips up and down, hissing at the burn of being stretched, but delighting in the occasional brushes close to that special spot of his. The fingers pulled away, much to his displeasure, but Harry pressed into him, breaching that first tight ring of muscle and the second until he was buried halfway. Draco squirmed in discomfort; Harry was much larger than mere fingers, but he rolled his hips anyway so that the man would continue. His pale fingers clutched at the sheets beneath him until his knuckles were truly white and his panting breath echoed through the room along with the brunet's moans and gasps.

Slowly, Harry pushed his hips forward and sunk deeper into the other man, leaning forward to swallow the blond's cries with his mouth, coaxing them down his throat with his tongue and reciprocating them with moans of his own. Long, pale limbs entwined him, pulling him deeper and pushing him closer to the heated body beneath him. The air tasted of sweat and sex and intoxicated them like the finest wine, filling their heads with heady thoughts and their eyes with even hotter visions. Harry sat back for better leverage, but the other followed him, wrapping himself tight around the Auror and pressing kisses into his shoulder. The brunet pressed his own lips to where he could reach the other, on his temple, right below pale hair that stuck with sweat against his forehead. He tongued the soft skin gently, taking in the salty-clean taste that was Draco in bed …

He sat back on his haunches and established a steady rhythm for the other man, sending the blond into keening fits of moans or almost violent tremors. The heels of Draco's narrow feet dug into the small of his back, but Harry had more important things to care for other than possible bruises in the morning; the arms around his neck had fallen back as the blond used them to support himself as he slammed his body back and forth. The insistent slaps of his actions echoed through the room, completing their erotic ambiance and providing a beautiful picture for Harry to dream of for years.

His head thrown back, his mouth open in silent screams as his body restlessly aimed for the most primal pleasure that there was, Draco closed his eyes to the sight of Harry gazing on him so intensely. Instead, he focused on the feel of the other man, in and out, back and forth, over and over until he became dizzy with it. He wanted to scream the man's name, wanted to cry out, to voice the ecstasy that was housed in a body that seemed too small to hold it, but – in silence – he emptied himself onto his stomach, his arms shaking violently and causing him to fall back, bringing the brunet down with him.

"Be my lover," Harry whispered into his ear in the midst of his final thrusts.

"Yes," Draco whispered as he was enveloped in strong arms that held him tightly as he was filled with the other man's hot, pulsing satisfaction. Harry kissed him softly, held him softly just as he knew the man would, and smiled at him as if he was the most amazing wonder in the world.

"I want to stay inside of you all night," Harry whispered, his green gaze practically glowing as a strip of moonlight that somehow bypassed the building blocking the window's view ran across his face.

Draco tightened his shaky legs around the other and suggested, "Feel free … Please …"

*

Harry stood in the doorway of the small kitchen and watched as his school rival, Draco Malfoy, shuffled around his kitchen on a Wednesday morning fixing bacon and French toast and humming to some wizarding rock band's song with the brightest "I just got laid" smile he had ever seen. He wanted to walk into the room and scoop the man up into his arms, ply his gorgeous face with kisses, and love him through the day and night until it was time for breakfast again, but the little blond sitting at the kitchen table prevented him from moving any further than the doorway. The child had yet to see him, but when he did, Harry was sure the boy would ask a number of questions that could only be answered with "I boinked your father last night" and he could see that ending horribly.

The Auror, after a minute of intense thought, decided it best to sneak out the apartment despite the fact that Draco had left him asleep in his bed when he could have kicked him out and practically stamped a seal of approval for him to stay on his forehead. Just as he moved to leave, Draco spun around, his satiny bed robes flowing around him as if made of wind and called out, "Harry! Breakfast – Oh!"

Harry pasted a smile over his cringe when another pair of silver eyes fell on him, but he only spared the boy one glance before staring pointedly at Draco.

"I told Scorpius earlier that you're Daddy's friend … Who just wanted to spend the night here," Draco explained, his cheeks going slightly red as he glanced at the curious expression on his son's face.

"Are you Harry Potter?!" the boy blurted and Draco frowned at him.

"Don't be rude, Scorpius."

"Sorry, Daddy," the little Malfoy whispered, his big eyes growing even wider as he stared at the Auror in the doorway. "Are you Harry Potter, sir?"

Harry fell into a fit of chuckles as Draco crossed his arms and shook his head. "Yes, I am."

"I'm Scorpius! I have all your Chocolate Frog cards and your action figure and Daddy even said that one day I might get a broom just like yours and –"

"Your food is getting cold," Draco said to the boy as he walked across the kitchen and ruffled the other blond's hair. He looked up at the other man hesitantly and said, "Yours, too."

Harry smiled softly at him and sat down in front of the plate made for him, taking in the sweet aroma of cinnamon and orange juice. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a hippogriff … Last night took all of my energy."

Draco turned bright red and turned away for a moment, busying himself at the sink where dishes were cleaning themselves. "Well, that hearty appetite will help you eat the food I make. Scorpius and I are already immune to it, but we've yet to test it on another."

"It can't be worse than Hermione's cooking," Harry said, taking a purposely large bite of the sweet toast and making a face of exaggerated pleasure that had Scorpius falling into a fit of giggles and making a few faces of his own. Draco smiled and sat down with his own plate between his son and the other man. The large hand the traced his bare knee had his face burning red once more, but he dismissed it with a small smile as his son began to retell a dream he had the night before of dragons and stars and famous wizards.

*

**A/N:**

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

I love you so much, WheezyD, and I hope you had the best b-day ever!

Sorry for taking forever to send this. It is, technically, still your birthday where you are and hopefully you read it before I totally missed the goal. By the way, for you and everyone else, this story is not finished; there is one more chapter that will hopefully be up by the end of the week. I started with one idea in mind and it totally got away from me, so it's going to be a decent sized two-shot.

Hope everyone enjoyed it so far and please wish WiseDraco a happy (belated) birthday.

Much love,

_**DMH **_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I have no idea if anyone found the last part as funny as me, but probably not because you would have to hear the elaborate story my friend Tony tells of his encounter with a cougar to fully understand why it's funny. And when I say cougar, I don't mean a giant cat, unless that cat is a forty-something divorcee with two cubs. I also got that "boinking your mother (father)" line from him as well. I know that he probably won't read this, but I feel as if I need to give him his props anyway. _**–DMH**_

*

With Thursday afternoon came the fake rainstorms spelled outside the Ministry windows, the tedious and mundane art of paper-plane-note-torching, and making out in a deserted corridor like a sixteen year old.

Draco had simply been walking down the hallway to visit a man about an order of dried slug eyes that had yet to be delivered, ignoring the fake raindrops and wind that rattled the windows, and setting the occasional magicked paper-plane spelled to harass him on fire when strong hands reached out and yanked him into a dark corner. He moaned into the deliciously familiar taste of hot lips and sweet tongue against his own and wrapped his arms around the slightly taller man's neck, tangling his fingers into that wild and dark mop of hair. Moaning lips left his and trailed down the side of his face, down his neck to a spot on the base that had him shivering and squirming under the other's skillful touch.

"Not here, Harry," he whispered and the mouth merely took his again to shut him up. He was spun around and pressed into the large pillar that kept them both from view from people walking the opposite direction down the hallway. Determined hands lifted his robes and fondled him through his trousers, causing hiccupping gasps to leave his throat as he pressed his face against the cool marble. "What if someone comes?"

"Just worry about you coming," Harry replied gruffly as his pants were lowered to the floor and hot, rigid flesh pressed against his backside.

"God … Harry … please don't … We can go somewhere else …"

"Indulge me," was whispered in his ear as slick, warm liquid spread inside of him.

*

With Thursday evening came bold accusations, disheveled hair, and cold, cold violet eyes.

Draco was called into the Head of the Ministry's Apothecary's office that night and he went warily, with a sore bum and hair that refused to lay flat after being assaulted by large, strong, Auror hands that had constantly yanked at it …

The secretary directed him into the office, which was empty when he carefully sat down in the small chair on the opposite side of the Head's desk. He twiddled his thumbs for the next ten minutes, stared at the walls, each adorned with its own bookshelf, each shelf filled with book after book after book on potions and potion ingredients and the effects of potions. Finally, he heard the door creak open behind him and he stood as the Head walked into the office.

She stood at, perhaps, four and a half feet or a bit taller, but Draco felt twice her size as always when she greeted him with a curt nod and literally climbed up into her seat behind the desk. She folded her hands on the clean surface before her, her short and stubby fingers entwining gracefully, their shining green tips glowing at him in a way that reminded him of Harry's angry gaze. Her thin lips were in a flat line, her violet eyes hooded and heavily painted with tar-like lashes and emerald green shadow. Her hair was pulled up into a severe bun, tighter than what he remembered the hair of the current headmaster of Hogwarts to be, and not a strand of the white-streaked brown hair was out of place.

"Mister Malfoy. How are you this evening?" she asked, her voice deep and carrying the same hypnotic nature of Severus Snape's. Perhaps if he worked with potions long enough his voice would also come to sound like that.

"I am well, Madam Hoacs. How are you?"

"Concerned," she replied, reaching into her dark brown robes and pulling out her wand. With a flick of it, a pile of folders appeared in midair and landed on the surface between them. "There have been … complaints."

"Complaints, Madam?" Draco asked, folding his hands on his lap so that the woman would not be able to see them shake.

"Yes, complaints that highly concern me, especially since you had such an honorable recommendation from Professor Slughorn. He obviously holds you in high esteem, but there are a few others that obviously do not."

"I understand. People tend to feel … uncomfortable around me," he replied slowly as he watched her flip through the first folder.

"Yes, there are reports of discomforts from those who work with you. Do you alienate yourself from the others much?"

"I do not and I try to be as polite as possible to all of them, but I am constantly ignored and alienated when they have conversations or even when asking for any kind of assistance." He noted that the woman nodded minutely and waved her wand slightly, causing a mark to appear on one of the papers she studied, but he could not make out what it was exactly. It made him question whether or not he should mention the charmed airplanes that constantly harassed him, but, ultimately, he decided not to.

"There have also been reports of you working late many consecutive nights since you began to work here. Would you like to explain?" she asked, fixing her blunt face in such a way that she appeared almost genuine in her concern.

"I tend to work slower in the mornings than I do at night, so I like to prepare my work for the next day before I leave," he replied, hoping he was not speaking too quickly. "Also, I tend to receive the hardest of the potions made in the Apothecary, so I usually need more time."

"I suppose that you are correct," she said softly, tapping her wand on several more papers before shutting the folders completely and vanishing them once more. "However, Mister Malfoy, I would hate to hear any complaints in the future of you doing anything overly suspicious. Understand?"

"Of course," Draco answered tightly, his chin automatically rising. "I assume that I am dismissed."

"You assume correctly," Madam Hoacs replied, putting her wand away and folding her hands once more. Draco stood and walked out of the room without looking back, but he felt the woman's eyes on him the entire way.

*

"What have you been up to today?" Draco asked as his lover languidly licked and nipped at his reddened nipples.

"Hmm?" Harry asked as he lifted his head to stare into the other's eyes. The blond repeated himself and Harry's brow rose in surprise. "Well … I spent the day with my kids. I haven't seen them for a few weeks. Ginny took them to her parents for a bit. Uh … what have you been up to?"

"Nothing. I was just being nosy," the blond admitted as he accepted a soft kiss.

"I've been thinking of you all day," Harry said between kisses, pressing his naked body against the other's.

"Why?"

"No reason … You smell like peppermint," Harry whispered as he pressed his face into the crook of the blond's neck and inhaled.

"Stop sniffing me, weirdo."

"Weirdo? That's probably the weakest insult you've ever given me," Harry laughed, smelling the blond once more as he ignored the swatting hands at his shoulders.

"You're nuttier than squirrel poo!" Draco laughed, accepting another kiss.

"I swear," Harry whispered, sitting up on his elbows and brushing the hair away from the blond's face. "You smell so good … I'm drunk on it."

"More like horny from it."

"That too … You know, I probably won't be able to chew gum without getting hard for you."

"Perverted weirdo."

"You love it."

Draco laughed and accepted yet another kiss as he reached around the Auror's golden frame to cup the perfectly toned behind. He squeezed and delighted in the moan that was pressed against his mouth. Harry's tongue slid into his mouth to explore and he tilted his head back and allowed it, welcoming it with his tongue. Harry pulled back and smiled. "Good kiss."

"Yeah," Draco whispered back, stroking his fingers down the side of the other's face. Soft lips brushed against his inner wrist and soft green eyes stared into his causing warm shivers to tickle their way down his spine.

It was hard to look into Harry's eyes, especially when the man was not wearing his glasses and those amazing eyes of his were clearer and deeper. They could see right through him, Draco knew it. He knew it, but he could not look away.

"You're the first lover I've had in two years," he admitted softly, still unable to remove his gaze from the other's.

Harry's brows rose in surprise at the sudden confession, but he said nothing for a moment, merely opting for the action of staring back at the other. Finally, he lifted a hand and brushed the loose strands of hair from Draco's face like he always seemed to do and whispered back, "Thank you."

Draco nodded and leaned back further until he was staring up at the ceiling.

"Am I the first man you've been with?" the brunet asked after a moment of silence. Draco shook his head. Harry nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat audibly. He laid his head across the blond's chest and occupied himself by rubbing the tip of his finger against the tight nub of Draco's nipple. "The first time I slept with a man was a week or so ago … I've been with three, including you."

"The first time I slept with a man, I was sixteen. I lost my virginity to him."

"I lost mine to Ginny."

"How many … How many women have you been with?"

"I don't know."

"The only woman I've had was Astoria. She said that she loved me, so I married her … and had Scorpius with her. I needed an heir, after all. She wanted another baby, so the next year we tried to have one. She was pregnant, but there were complications that weakened the magic of both her and the baby and finally her magic all but disappeared and when she began her second trimester, the baby passed and she died. Sometimes, I think it was … sadness, you know? Sadness that killed her and I couldn't do anything."

"Did you love her?"

"I think so. Did you love Ginny?"

"She told me that I didn't know how to love. I have stunted emotional growth because of my childhood, apparently."

"So … did you love her?"

"I thought I did, but wouldn't it have hurt more when she told me she wanted a divorce?"

"Do you really think you have a stunted emotional growth thing or …?"

"No."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah."

*

Draco woke up on Saturday morning in his lover's arms with the stress of the last two days behind him. He lifted his head a bit to look over the other man's shoulder and to the ornamental clock on the wall. It read to be four in the morning exactly and he sighed softly before sliding away from the other man. He climbed from the bed and was grateful when his naked feet padded silently along the hardwood floors and he mentally patted himself on the back for spelling all the floors but the ones in his son's room silent. He pulled on a random pair of pajama pants that lay sprawled across the floor, noting that they were too big for him and were most likely Harry's, and then noting – with a blush – that Harry was already leaving his things over.

He went to silently stalk out of the bedroom, but was stopped, of course, by a low hoot and a tap on the window. The large owl that silhouetted the small frame made an ominous figure in the early morning darkness, but Draco was used to it enough that it no longer fazed him. He moved to the window, eyeing the bed and the Auror that lay in it warily, and opened it slowly, gritted his teeth at the slow, grating sound and the occasional squeak that might as well have been a hairsplitting shriek for all the noise it made in the small bedroom. He took the package from the bird's leg and nodded before watching the owl fly away and closing the window behind it.

He cradled the package to his chest and moved to the door.

"What's that?"

He halted, his spine going stiff and tight, and he turned to the other man. "It's nothing. I woke up because I heard the bird tapping and I went to the window to get the package it had. I haven't checked it yet, so I don't know what it is. Probably just more orders for potions, as always."

Harry sat up and leaned back against one of his elbows. His free hand busied itself by scratching through the rough growth of morning stubble on the man's chin while his other tapped along with Draco's heartbeat on the mattress. "You sure?"

The blond gave him a quizzical look and shrugged. "Yes …"

Harry yawned slowly and did not say a word to the other man for a moment, just squinted at him through the morning darkness as if waiting for an explanation to willingly reveal itself. However, the blond just stared back, so he yawned and asked, "What were you going to do before the owl got here?"

He watched Draco blush, curse, and roll his eyes all at once before giving another tired shrug. "I was going to check on Scorpius."

"You don't usually check on him this early."

"I had a bad dream."

"You were moaning 'more' in your sleep."

"What are you accusing me of, Harry?"

"Dreaming about me loving you, that's all." Silver eyes gave him the coldest look they possibly could so he yawned and tried again. "I'm an Auror, Draco, and you're acting suspiciously."

"Suspiciously?" the blond barked out as a cool laugh. "Because of this?" He lifted his left arm and pointed at the long scar on his arm that Harry could not see clearly through the darkness, but always knew was there. "Is this why?"

"No, that's not why, you twit. You're lying to me … all the time and about little shit you do. I don't like it."

"I'm not lying to you."

"That's a lie," the brunet hissed fiercely as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Just stop lying to me."

Draco set the package down on his dresser and looked at his feet the entire way across the room to sit beside his lover. Once seated, he switched his gaze to his hands and then the brunet's arms as his gaze followed his hands. The muscle under the skin he touched was tense and hard, rigid with annoyance and something else that Draco was afraid to name. They sat together in the thick, tensioned filled silence, each looking out into the darkness of the room that matched their dark moods.

Finally, Draco turned to Harry and said, as softly as he possibly could, "Did you know that my father is still alive?"

Harry lifted his head and looked to the blond slowly. He shook his head and waited for the other to continue.

"Well, he is. You know that he's in Azkaban," Draco said, his tone still forcibly light. "He's still in his right mind, you know, for a man who has been there for as long as he has … He's never seen Scorpius … He never met Astoria … He didn't cry when I told him that mother died … But he hasn't said a word since then and I just – I just want to save him."

Harry watched on as the blond grew silent and sighed softly. "He was given a life sentence. You can't save him from that, Draco. Exactly what are you planning?"

"I'm not planning anything, Potter!" Draco spat as he pulled away from the other man. "He's dying. He's sick and I just … I needed this job at the Ministry badly. After Mother's death, I easily had the funds to take care of Scorpius and I for a long time, perhaps even open a small Apothecary in Knockturn Alley, but I needed this Ministry job."

"Because it gives you access to both St. Mungo's and Azkaban," Harry added. Draco nodded and ran a hand down his face.

"I can access records I never would have been able to get near had I not gotten a job –"

"You mean you can change them. Lucius was not to receive any type of Healing care, whether he was sick or battered himself somehow."

Tears formed in silver eyes, but Draco refused to let them fall. "It's not fair."

"I think it is," Harry countered coldly.

"He's not your father! You haven't loved him your entire life! You haven't seen him in my eyes," Draco sobbed as he was pulled into strong arms. He pressed his face into the Auror's chest and hid the tears that fell. "I'm sorry for-for what he's done, but he's my father, Harry. You have to understand."

The brunet nodded and said he did. He really did.

He held onto the other man for a long time after that.

*

The room in his apartment Draco used for potion brewing was as small as all the others, but darker, near the back of the sun and facing neither west nor east so as not to catch any light from the passing sun. The walls had been painted black and, when Harry touched them, felt gritty, smooth, warm, cold, and filmy all at once. Draco had told him it was because of all the excess steam the various potions gave off. He told him not to worry; however, as the dark paint on the walls had been spelled to absorb and negate any potion effects, so that he would not have to worry is Scorpius snuck into the room.

Draco lit a variety of candles, all of different sizes and colors, with a flick of his wand and allowed Harry to follow him into the room.

"This is it," he said.

"Where all the magic happens," Harry chuckled.

"What?" Draco asked as if he had missed something.

"Oh, it's a Muggle saying that implies – You know, never mind," Harry quickly said before pointing in a direction and asking, "What is that?"

"That is the twisted truth," the blond replied as he walked over to the shimmering orange potion the other had pointed to. "It's not finished yet because it is supposed to be clear like veritaserum, but like veritaserum, it needs a few days before it is completed."

"Twisted truth?"

"Yes, it makes the taker tell the truth, but creates a temporary memory loss of subjects the taker does not wide to talk about or admit to. The truth becomes twisted because of the omissions. Get it?"

"Sounds like a Death Eater tool," Harry said, circling the cauldron and frowning into it.

Draco blushed and stepped away from the potion. "Well, seeing as there are few Death Eaters left that need anything to lie about and the fact that I invented this potion a week or so ago, I don't think it helped them much during the war."

With his lover's voice as tight and strained as it was, Harry was almost afraid to ask, "Why did you make it? Did someone at the Ministry commission for it?"

"No," Draco said as he blushed and went to stir another potion. "I just made it."

"Why, Draco?"

"I had a stupid idea, that's all." When he stepped away from his potion and turned slightly, he found himself running into the other's firm chest. He looked up at Harry with a frown and attempted to push away until strong arms wrapped around him. "What? I don't want to talk about this anymore. I already decided that once it's finished, I'm going to get rid of it."

"And what exactly brought all of this on? What was this decision that you had a change of heart about?"

Draco pinched the base of Harry's neck, causing him to yelp and lift a hand away and giving him the perfect opportunity to free himself. "You don't trust me!"

"No, I don't," Harry replied as he rubbed his neck and his heart hurt when he saw the pain and shock in silvery eyes. "I'm trying to, Draco, but I can't."

"Because you'll never forgive me for what I did."

"I already told you, I don't care about a stupid mark on your arm or the actions you had to take in order to protect yourself and your family. I don't care about any of that. In fact, you've been forgiven in my eyes for a long time."

"Why?" the blond asked softly, looking away from the other to various chopped ingredients on a table.

"I know you had the chance to kill Dumbledore and that you did not take it. And you tried to save my life once," Harry said.

"Only so I could bring you alive to the Dark Lord," the other scoffed.

"Do you want me to be mad at you about this?"

"Well, yes!" Draco snapped. "Because, then I'll have a reason for why you don't trust me. You tell me all these things and why you don't hate me, but I don't understand."

"Draco, I can't trust you because you lie to me. You keep things from me. I know that we haven't been together long, but – but I want to try and …"

"And what?" When Harry did not reply, Draco's face clouded with anger and his fist hit the table. "You distrust me for not telling you things, but you can't even explain yourself by finishing a damn sentence."

"I want to trust you, Draco."

"Why?"

The brunet looked taken aback for a moment, his green eyes drifted away from Draco's gaze for a moment as the expression on his face became quizzical. "What do you mean, wh –"

"I mean, we've only been 'together' for a week, yes?" Draco began smoothly, yet retaining enough of his anger to cause Harry's shoulders to tense. "And that was only because you wanted to fuck me – or indulge yourself or whatever," he corrected when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "So you gave yourself a week of indulgences and I happen to be one of those indulgences. Why would I tell you anything when you are just going to bore of me and leave?"

"Is that what you've thought this entire time?"

"Am I wrong?"

"Yes, yes you are," Harry said, much to Draco's shock. He stared as the green-eyed man approached him and did not move as his face was cupped and thumbs stroked along the lines of his sharp cheekbones. "It's true that I've used people in that way, I can't lie to you about that, but I wanted to stay with you. I didn't want to leave you like I did them."

"So … I'm supposed to feel special because I'm not the one night stand?" Draco snarled, lifting his hands to grip at the other's wrists, as if to yank them away. "I was an impulsive decision, you told me yourself. You weren't thinking of a relationship of any type when you approached me."

Harry frowned as he strained for words and Draco wanted to pull away badly, to pull the hands from his face, to step away from the beautiful man before. He felt horrible in that moment, as if his stomach had bottomed out, yet there was something weighing him down so that he could not move, could not breathe. Until Harry finally said, "I want to fall in love with you."

His hands dropped from Harry's wrists and then he really could not breathe.

Harry stared at the other's expression intently, as if trying to coax a response from it, but Draco was so shocked that he merely shook his head and looked away in disbelief.

"I want to, Draco. I do. You were right, I had no intention of having a relationship with you, but … when I made love with you – and the next day you made me French toast and introduced me to your son … You told me about Astoria and your father … You told me that it was good that I still think myself capable of love. It felt like you were the only person to agree with me on that and … there was this overwhelming feeling that I just _needed_ to share with you and … and …"

"You're holding back because you don't think you can trust me, aren't you?" Draco asked as he turned his eyes back to the other, just as Harry looked away. He lifted his hands and cupped the hands cupping his face. "So … I had this idea that if the Ministry ever questioned the increase of good health in my father and decided to take him in and question him about it, I would have a potion ready in case they decided to use veritaserum on him. It would replace that potion and make him forget about what he wanted to lie about and I would not have to stop giving him healing potions. That was my diabolical plan with the twisted truth potion."

"That is pretty diabolical," Harry laughed as he stroked his fingers across pale skin and watched intensely as a path of red followed where his skin had touched. "So … what made you rethink this idea?"

"Right after I developed the potion and began the process of making it, I heard Scorpius crying from his room. He had a nightmare and I consoled him and hugged him until he slept. And after he was asleep, I thought about him. Really thought about him, you know."

"I know," Harry said, thinking of his children and reflexively putting his arms around Draco to pull him closer.

"What if my plan did not work and I was caught? Surely, I would go to prison. Scorpius' mother is gone, my mother is gone – he would have nowhere to go. I don't want to put my son into a worse situation than the one I'm currently in just to save my father. I'm the father now, no longer just a son. I decide what's right for my family."

Harry kissed him then, slowly, passionately. One of his hands lifted to tickle the blond's ear before threading its fingers into his hair as the kiss went on and on. When that kiss broke apart, he trailed small kisses all around Draco's face before settling into the long column of his neck. "I admire you so much."

*

"So … what does the purple one do?"

"Hopefully, it'll make you shut up if I throw it in your face," Draco said irritably as he looked up from the potion he was making for the umpteenth time. Harry merely smiled. "It makes the taker able to control and manipulate his emotions as well as the emotions of others. It also can enhance empathy."

"Hmm, looks like a love potion to me."

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "Shows what you know about potions. It's not a love potion at all."

"It involves emotion."

"It specializes in sadness. People usually take it when they go to funerals or the reading of wills in order to make themselves look good," Draco told him as he crumbled up a peppermint leaf and tossed it into the cauldron before him.

"It still looks like a love potion to me," Harry laughed as he climbed onto a stool across from the one Draco occupied.

"It's not a love potion; it induces boils if it's swallowed," Draco chuckled.

"Boils, love, same difference."

"Oh, you're so stupid," Draco muttered as he rolled his eyes again.

"So how does one take it if you can't swallow it?"

"Well, one can sip it and swish it around in their mouths before spitting it out, but people usually just inhale it through their nose. The effects aren't as strong that way, but it's better than boils."

"I suppose," Harry replied with a slight smile as he leaned away from the steaming cauldron. "So I can't inhale it?"

"You can now because it's not finished, but I advise that you get away from it anyway," Draco said as he leaned over a parchment full of his notes and checked something off with a scratch of his quill before tossing an ingredient into his current potion.

"Sounds like an idea," Harry said and leapt off the stool, walked around the table and wrapped his arms around the blond. "Tell me what you're doing."

"Finishing up the potion for my father," Draco replied a bit tersely as he tried to pull away from the other's insistent arms. "Go away."

"No," Harry said, kissing the skin just under the other's soft ear. He pointed to what looked like a pile of hair and inquired as to what it was.

"The beard of a hag."

"A hag?"

"Yes. A bearded one, now go away," Draco hissed as he grabbed a few strands of hair and tossed it into the cauldron. The concoction bubbled for a moment before it shifted from mint green to milky white. "It was the ingredient that the owl brought to me a while ago. It's rare. Well … many hags have beards, but it's hard to find a hag willing to give up her beard. The hairs have many valuable, magical properties."

"And this is the same potion you've been giving to your father?"

"The hag's beard modifies it a bit. It helps it last longer because … I've decided that this will be the last potion I give my father," the blond said softly. He tensed when the strong arms tightened around him, but eventually eased back into Harry's warm chest. "Why don't you go back to bed?"

"Come with me," Harry suggested in a warm whisper against his ear. "Are you done?"

"I can let it sit for a few hours, I suppose."

"Come to bed with me, then."

Draco soon found himself draped across his lover with his legs on either side of Harry's, kissing the green-eyed man lazily over and over. His upper lip was caught between the other's teeth and he gasped in surprise and pleasure. One of his hands left the grip of the bedsheets he had on either side of Harry's head and traced down the other man's body, exploring the hot planes and smooth curves of it. Learning each angle and each sharp line.

As Harry occupied himself with kisses along his hairline, Draco pinched the tiny bud of the man's nipple between his fore and middle finger. Harry hissed and arched into the touch just in time to meet the tongue that had licked down to tease the prize Draco's fingers had caught. Draco sucked the pebbled flesh passionately, adding his teeth momentarily to win moans from the brunet and using his other hand to play with the other nipple or the sensitive skin beneath his armpit. Harry cursed as the hands moved lower, into dark, curly hair and onto even more sensitive skin. He was cupped in smooth, warm hands that expertly kneaded him to the brink and disappeared as soon as they came, leaving him cursing and whining into the sweet mouth that covered his. Draco's kisses would drug him into incoherence, that happy little place between unconsciousness and rationality, and he would complete forget those taunting hands until they came back to torture begs out of him. Higher and higher, Draco would take him and it seemed closer to the beautiful edge each time until those hands would disappear a leave Harry a shivering heap.

"Please? God, Draco," he gasped as his sadist's mouth left his neck to discover what the skin beneath his navel tasted like.

"Now?" Draco asked as he pushed his pointed nose into the dip of Harry's navel. Only a moan answered him, so – with a rather satisfied smile – he gripped the other's need and gave it several fast strokes until it was impossibly harder. Harry rutted against him, reaching down his body to roughly take hold of Draco's head of blond hair and use it to pull their mouths align. Draco pulled away from the kiss to stare down at the other with a soft smile.

"That tastes so good," Harry whispered.

"My kiss?" Harry nodded, so Draco gave him another. "How about that one?"

"Even more delicious."

"And this one?"

"I have no words."

"Potter!" Draco said in mock surprise. "When did you become so smooth?"

"Hush," Harry chuckled. "Just kiss me."

"Alright," he said, sighing his tongue between the other's lips and locking them together until Harry's strong hands lifted him up by the waist and angled him in a position that would grant them both fulfillment. "Wait. Slick it, please."

Harry nodded at the panted request and reached to the night stand for his wand. One wave of it and Draco was ready to lower himself and engulf his lover into his warmth. Harry's head fell back and his loud moan filled the room.

"Shh," the blond whispered, placing fingers over the other's mouth that were soon sucked in to be tasted. He groaned quietly and rolled his hips experimentally. The vibrations around his fingers from Harry's grunts of pleasure encouraged him to roll and lift and drop.

"Oh," Harry said as his body discovered he liked that move. His eyes closed tightly and he ran his hands up and down the other's body blindly, occasionally playing with pink nipples or skimming across the hot, wet tip of him. His hips lifted automatically, thrusting into the welcoming heat just as it was pushed down onto him. "More."

"Yes," Draco agreed, placing a hand in the middle of the brunet's chest and using it to help push himself up and down. "More … More …"

And Harry reached up and pulled him down for more sweet tasting kisses.

*

Hours later the pair stood cuddling in the kitchen as Draco prepared scrambled eggs for his son's breakfast. He giggled as Harry's kisses trailed to the crook of his neck.

"Didn't you get enough?"

"I told you, I like indulging myself in you."

"Mmm," Draco sighed as Harry licked a particularly good spot. "I like it, too."

"Mister Harry Potter, sir?" Scorpius' little voice alerted the pair of his presence and they jumped and turned towards the doorway with wide eyes as if they had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Uh, yeah?" Harry replied as Draco tried to tug himself out of his arms.

"How come you and Daddy never have sleepovers over your house?" the little boy asked, his silver eyes large and innocent. Harry promptly burst into laughter and Draco saw his chance to get away.

"Good question. Why is that, Draco?" Harry chuckled as he looked to the blond's back. Despite being busy finishing the eggs and spooning them onto three plates, Harry could see that his lover's ears were bright red. "You like our sleepovers, don't you?"

"Shut up and sit down, Potter."

"How about we _indulge_ in a sleepover over my place tonight?"

"How about you _indulge_ my foot in your –"

"How about we _indulge_ a vacation together?"

Draco turned, pink face and all and gaped at the other man. "A vacation? Together? All of us?"

"Of course all of us," Harry chuckled, ruffling Scorpius' hair and causing the boy to giggle. "How does that sound? I can bring my kids and you can bring Scorpius and we can _indulge_ in a little trip to celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Draco asked as the trio sat down to eat. "Celebrate what?"

"Our life together, duh," Harry said.

"Duh," Scorpius giggled in agreement. Draco smiled at him before turning back to Harry.

"I'll think about it."

"Alright," Harry said with a smile as he reached across the table to hold Draco's hand. "You're not afraid to indulge, are you?"

"You make life with you sound so decadent," Draco laughed.

"It is."

Silver eyes traced Harry's features thoughtfully and Draco nodded. "Fine. I guess I can indulge a little bit."

"Daddy, how come you keep saying 'indulge'?"

"Eat your eggs, Scorpius."

_-THE END-_

*

**Author's Note:** YAY!!! So … a week turned into a couple months, but all that matters is that I updated, right? *crickets chirping* Damn, well … *slowly inches out of the room as mob sharpens pitchforks* MY BAD!!! Anywho, Wheezy, BIRTHDAY IN JULY!!! It's like Christmas in July, but you don't get discounts in department stores. Hmm … we'll just stick to having our b-days in March, won't we? Lol! _**-DMH**_


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